


Three Weeks

by anglophileadventures



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drug Use, Klaus is bad at dealing with his emotions, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pre-Canon, Sex Work, it's brief but it's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 18:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19707316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anglophileadventures/pseuds/anglophileadventures
Summary: Prologue“Her name was Delores. We were together for over thirty years.”“Thirty years?” Klaus repeats incredulously. “Wow.” He draws the word out into a laugh. Their love lives could not be more different. “The longest I’ve ever been with someone was… I don’t know, three weeks? And that’s only because I was so tired of looking for a place to sleep.”Klaus allows the memories to drift hazily, and surprises himself by feeling almost melancholy. What must it be like, to be with the same person for so long? Who could possibly stand to be around him for that length of time?“He did make the mostfantasticosso buco, though.”





	Three Weeks

**Day One**

Klaus comes to and the guy he picked up at the club is shouting at him, but not in a sexy way. The absence of cock in his ass is also wildly disappointing.

“What happened? Why did you stop?” he asks.

“Why did I stop?” the guy repeats incredulously. “I stopped because you fucking passed out, that’s why!”

“Oh,” Klaus says. “Is that all?”

“Are you ok?” the guy asks. Klaus sighs to himself and makes a mental note to pick someone sleazier next time. This guy is so boringly concerned.

“I’d be a lot better if you would keep fucking me,” Klaus tells him.

“Sorry, I don’t fuck people who are unconscious.”

“Well I’m very awake now, so…” Klaus makes a suggestive hand motion. “Get to it, big boy.”

Instead, the guy sits up and watches him closely. What was his name again? Something with a G - Greg? George? Gavin? Wait no - Gavin was last week. Klaus never got this one’s name. Anyway, Klaus is never bothering with him again, he’s way too self-righteous. It’s annoying. And he’s spent way too long not fucking him.

“You know,” the guy says, and he smiles like he thinks he’s nice, which just annoys Klaus even more, “the whole point of establishing the safe touch is so you can tell me _before_ you pass out.”

“Right, right, I’ll be sure to do that,” Klaus says, but he doesn’t try too hard to be convincing, which was probably a mistake, because the next thing the guy says is:

“If I can’t trust you to tell me where your limits are, then I don’t feel comfortable doing this.” The guy is frowning. Shit. He’s really going to be a stickler about this, isn’t he?

“Boo, lame,” Klaus whines. This really is just his luck. Here he was, about to get a decent fuck, and this guy had to go and be all noble and decent. It’s infuriating. “Why do we need to be comfortable anyway? It’s sex, being uncomfortable is half the fun.”

“You’re a riot,” the guy says sarcastically. “I don’t know, Klaus…”

Oh shit, this guy knows him. Maybe they did exchange names? Klaus wracks his brain, trying to remember if anything sounds like it matches the face in front of him. Nothing comes to mind.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. How often do people really call each other by their names, anyway? And this guy is so boring, Klaus probably wouldn’t remember his name even if he did tell it to him.

But. There is one little problem. It’s really cold tonight. And Klaus was kind of counting on having somewhere to sleep, inside. So he can’t let Greg/George kick him out, which means he has to at least pretend to give half a shit about him.

“Alright, fine, it’s getting late anyway. What do you say we call it a night, and you can spoon me to sleep?”

Greg/George’s smile goes soft and sappy. “I didn’t know you were the spooning type.” Great, now he’s oversold it. Klaus will never be able to get rid of him.

“I thought everyone was the spooning type,” Klaus responds. “Spooning is delightful. Now wrap me up and hold me in those big strong arms, loverboy.”

They settle in for the night, and Klaus is thinking that this isn’t so bad and he might actually have lucked out for once. But when the guy reaches for the light switch, Klaus’ pulse speeds up more than he’d like to admit.

“Wait,” he says too quickly to be casual.

The guys stops and looks at him.

“Can you… leave it on?”

Greg/George smiles. “Why, are you afraid of the dark?”

Klaus grimaces. “Something like that.”

He hesitates, but then turns on the lamp on the nightstand. “I’ll leave this one on, okay?” Then he turns off the main light.

Klaus exhales with relief and lies back down. “Thanks,” he mutters. Greg/George lies down beside him, and alright, he has to admit that it does feel sort of nice to have someone’s arms around him.

Klaus is still riding the high when he finally falls asleep, but by the time he’s edging back into consciousness, he’s slipped below that sweet spot just enough that the most persistent ghosts can sneak through.

As always, it starts out as whispers, but the whispers grow steadily louder into shrieks and screams. They infiltrate his dreams, and he’s not awake enough to be aware but he’s whimpering and crying, begging them to leave him alone, please, please, go away, but they keep calling out to him, Klaus, Klaus, Klaus -

“Klaus, are you okay?”

He jerks awake and bolts upright. For a second he can’t remember where he is, but then the previous night’s exploits come back to him, and he turns to see Greg/George looking at him with concern and he might be imagining it but possibly a hint of fear? Klaus tells himself it doesn’t matter, he’s used to people thinking he’s crazy or a freak or whatever, it doesn’t bother him anymore. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, especially not someone like Greg/George. He can’t afford to.

“Never been better,” he answers, voice ragged. He scrubs his face with his hands, trying to block out the still-whispering voices creeping on the edge of his perception. He needs another dose, and soon. He knows he has enough pills leftover from last night to get him to the afternoon, but after that he’ll need to pick up something else, which means he’ll need to get money from somewhere.

“Do you want to stay for breakfast? I could make you something,” Greg/George offers.

“Ooh, can we have waffles?” Ben asks. Klaus turns his head slowly to look at him. When did he get here?

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Greg/George is asking.

“Ask him for waffles,” Ben implores, nearly at the same time.

Klaus grinds the heels of his hands into his eye sockets until he sees stars. He really needs a hit of something. “Can we have waffles?” he asks.

“Sure,” Greg/George answers as Ben cheers.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, in which Klaus takes just enough to take the edge off (it’s not enough, not nearly enough, but he promised Ben his waffles, and he can make it through breakfast at least. Probably), Klaus and Greg/George are sitting down to a feast that would look extravagant even to royalty. Klaus isn’t that hungry (a side effect of the uppers) but even so he tries to eat at least a few mouthfuls, knowing from experience the consequences of ignoring his body’s requirement for fuel. The rest he passes to Ben, and because he passes it to Ben that means it belongs to the dead now, and Ben can eat, drink, or otherwise interact with whatever Klaus passes him. (Klaus is still a little hazy on the rules. Good Old Reggie probably would have wanted him to figure them all out, test the limits of his power, but Klaus was scared of the spirits enough as it was. He didn’t need to go handing them weapons. Ben was fine though because Ben was Ben.)

He hesitates before passing Ben the mug of coffee. “How attached are you to this particular mug?” he asks Greg/George. “It’s not your favorite or anything, right?”

Greg/George looks confused but also mildly amused, like he thinks Klaus is setting up for a joke. “No, why?”

Klaus shrugs. “No reason,” he answers. “Just, you know, in case I drop it or something.”

“I mean, please try your best not to drop it,” Greg/George says, still with that befuddled half-smile on his face, “but if you do, I won’t be super upset or anything.”

Klaus smiles back grimly. “Super.” Greg/George does not appear to notice the sarcasm.

When Greg/George turns away, he passes the mug of coffee to Ben, who inhales the strong scent with relish. Ben doesn’t get to enjoy the delights of the senses much anymore, so when he does get the chance, he likes to savor it.

They finish breakfast with only the occasional idle chit-chat, but it’s surprisingly not as awkward as Klaus had expected. Greg/George seems perfectly at ease with silence and doesn’t stretch the conversation thinner than it wants to go. It’s almost, Klaus might dare to say, pleasant.

He’s already thinking about how he’s going to get the money for his next score, and he’s shrugging on his coat to leave, when Greg/George surprises him with a question.

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” The little hopeful smile on his face is almost painful.

“Why?” Klaus asks, not bothering to hide his utter bewilderment.

“Because,” Greg/George says, looking at him playfully and not a little flirtatiously. “I like you, Klaus. I want to have dinner with you.”

“You _like_ me?” Klaus mocks him. “How can you like me? The only things you even know about me are that I like to be choked and that I sometimes wake up crying.”

“I know that you know how to have a good time,” he counters. “I know that you’re fun to be around and that I want to spend time getting to know you better.”

Klaus snorts derisively.

“Is that so hard to believe?” The guy asks, sounding defensive now.

“I thought we both understood that this was a one-night type of deal,” Klaus says. “This wasn’t a get-to-know-you, spend-time-together,” he waves his hands inarticulately, “have-dinner type of deal.”

The guy looks at him with patient eyes, and Klaus knows deep in his soul, if he has one anyway, that he and this guy could never work out. Even if Klaus wasn’t an emotionally unavailable basket case (damn it, now he’s thinking about Green Day. Billie Joe was pretty hot, for someone old enough to be his dad. Well, barely old enough, but still. Klaus is self-aware enough to know he has serious daddy issues. How could he not?)

The point is, even if Klaus was capable of love, he would still never end up with someone like Greg/George. He’s just so painfully… nice. Nice and boring.

“I’ll tell you what,” the guy says. “I’ll be making dinner here tonight at seven, and if you decide you want to come by, you know where to find me.”

“Sure,” Klaus agrees, already knowing he won’t show.

**Day Two**

The stranger cums into his mouth and Klaus pulls off his cock; he gags slightly but tries not to show it as he leans to the side to spit the cum out. He wipes his mouth and smiles prettily up at the man while he digs a wadded-up note out of his pocket. The stranger hands Klaus the crumpled note. “Cheers,” Klaus whispers, but he misjudges how quiet his voice is and it scrapes on the way out.

Once the stranger is gone, Klaus stands up and dusts off his knees. Then he heads straight to his dealer and exchanges the crumpled note for a small packet of sweet relief. He can feel himself getting calmer even before he takes what’s inside, nerves soothed by the promise of the chemicals soon to hit his bloodstream.

Right. Now that’s taken care of, he can worry about where he’s going to sleep tonight.

He's got a few outdoor places he can stake out when the weather isn't so bad: the overpass on 42nd; one particular bench in one particular park; the alleyway with the dumpster that he can hide behind and prop the lid up against the wall as a lean-to.

The trouble is that it will probably get well below freezing tonight, and if he doesn't want to freeze to death (which he wouldn't necessarily mind except that it seems like such a prolonged and painful way to go, and if he's going to go he thinks he'd rather get it over with quickly) then he'd better find somewhere indoors to spend the night.

He could go the "public establishment" route; most bars in the city stay open until at least two, and Klaus being the person that he is knows about all the clubs and bars that stay open all night. The problem with that is that he's just... too fucking tired. He doesn't want to stand around drinking and he definitely doesn't want to dance for hours (he hates himself for admitting it, but it's true. Even he has his limits). Last time he tried to go the club route when he was this tired, he'd ended up trying to sleep in a toilet stall, accidentally kneeling in the flooded floor and soaking his favorite pair of pants in shit-water, and getting kicked out anyway because a bouncer found him passed out in the bathroom and thought he was high (he was high, but that was hardly the point). After that he'd ended up paying a little visit to the paramedics, and... well, that was another story.

Even besides the weather, there’s the problem of hygiene. He can’t actually remember when he last had a bath, but he suspects it’s been at least a week - his skin is getting that itchy feeling it gets when he goes too long without bathing, and he’s pretty sure his hair can stand up on its own.

Greg/George’s offer of dinner flits across his mind, but he quickly shuts it down. Yes, he could probably use his feminine wiles to convert dinner into staying the night (and Greg/George’s bed had been so warm and comfortable...), but there was the matter of his dignity. 

( _Besides,_ a small part of his mind whispers, _it wouldn’t be fair to Greg/George either. It would be like… leading him on._ Klaus tells that part of his mind to shut up. He has enough trouble with hearing voices as it is.)

He can find somewhere else to stay the night. He has friends, doesn’t he? Of course he does.

Klaus runs through the mental list. There's Sarah, but she's out of town for another week at least. Ben (no not that Ben, a different Ben; it took Klaus a while to get used to it but there are a lot of Bens in the world, both literally and figuratively) will let him crash on his couch for a day or two at a time every few months in exchange for sharing his weed, but for one thing Klaus doesn't have any weed (he's been on more of a benzos kick lately) and for another, he just stayed at Ben's two weeks ago. Klaus doesn't like to go back to the same people too often; he knows he's a lot to deal with and he doesn't want to overstay his welcome.

He runs into the same problem with the next three people on his list: Jamie, Dan, and Katelyn. He knows for a fact Dan's getting real sick of his shit and he'd better give him a wide berth for at least another month. Also Katelyn has that new girlfriend who hates Klaus and definitely won’t be cool with him sleeping on the couch, and he doesn’t want to come between Katelyn and her girlfriend (at least not this early in the relationship; he may be selfish but he’s not a monster).

That just leaves Ezra and Lauren. Ezra's a maybe... but the last time he stayed there, he swore he'd never go back, and he's not quite desperate enough to break that promise to himself just yet (he knows he will break it eventually, it’s practically inevitable, but he’s not there yet). So Klaus sighs and tells himself he'll give Lauren a try, and if it's a no go he might as well come crawling back to Greg/George. It's not like he has any dignity left by now, anyway.

Lauren opens the door on his second knock and Klaus can already tell from the look on her face that it’s a no go. He’s become very adept at spotting the particular blend of crestfallen and false cheer that is the last warning signal before someone reached their final straw. Klaus buries the sick feeling of disappointment that’s taken up residence in his gut (or maybe that’s the nausea; another side effect of the uppers) and forces himself to carry out a few moments’ cheerful smalltalk before leaving without even asking to crash on her couch.

It’s fine. He doesn’t care. He’s used to people looking at him like they’d rather he was anyone else.

So. Greg/George’s it is then.

Klaus shows up at a quarter past seven (it took him awhile to find the place again) and Greg/George looks so goddamn happy to see him that for a second Klaus considers turning right around and leaving again. Freezing to death probably isn’t _so_ bad.

But it’s too late, and Greg/George is ushering him inside to where the rich smell of beef cooking in white wine saturates the entire room and envelopes him. After shamelessly begging a bath (he doesn’t even have to steal a pair of underwear, Greg/George offers a clean pair of his own accord, without even being asked), Greg/George tells him to sit at the table, set with cloth napkins, centerpiece, and candles, the whole nine yards, while he puts the finishing touches on an _osso buco_ ; apparently it’s a family recipe handed down from his _nonna_ in Milan.

When Klaus puts the first bite into his mouth, he almost cries, it tastes that good. It’s seasoned with bay leaf and - is that a hint of cinnamon? Every bite is as stunning as the last. Who is this man? He indulges Klaus’ kinky sex _and_ is an amazing cook? He can’t be real.

Greg/George does ask him to stay the night, and Klaus does, but when it actually comes down to it and they’re making out half-naked on the bed, the kind of making out that’s only a precursor to something more, he realizes he’s just not up for it, and so he asks:

“Just out of curiosity, how upset would you be if we,” he pauses, swallowing nervously, “didn’t have sex tonight? I can still get you off, if you want,” he adds quickly.

“Klaus,” Greg/George says, brows drawn. “Of course we don’t have to have sex. That’s completely fine. Actually, I’m glad you’re telling me instead of going ahead with it when you don’t really want to.”

Oh, right. Klaus almost forgot Greg/George was Like This. He would be annoyed, except tonight it’s working in his favor, so what the hell. Maybe there was something to dating nice guys after all.

Except they’re not dating. Unless staying over two nights in a row counts as dating. Which it doesn’t.

Klaus slides down until his head is level with Greg/George’s crotch and fiddles with his belt buckle. “Do you want me to…” he tugs the end of Greg/George’s belt free, making his meaning plain.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Greg/George repeats, and for some reason he looks almost… pained? He pulls Klaus up so their faces are level again and kisses him once, with far too much feeling. “This is nice,” he says when they break apart, and Klaus isn’t sure what he’s referring to. The kiss? The making out shirtless on the bed? The dinner date in general?

For the second night in a row, Klaus falls asleep with Greg/George’s arms around him.

**Days Three through Seven**

The next morning, Klaus wakes up in his usual manner, but this time Greg/George hardly bats an eye. And after Klaus has abruptly returned to wakefulness and had a few moments to calm his racing heart, he has the peculiar feeling that someone’s hands were just in his hair, as though perhaps someone was stroking his hair soothingly while he cried in his sleep. The idea makes him feel oddly unsettled.

There’s no offer of dinner this time, but Greg/George does ask how to reach him, and looks disappointed when Klaus says he doesn’t have a phone. Or a permanent address (but Klaus doesn’t tell him that part). Klaus suggests that maybe they’ll see each other around, and Greg/George says:

“You know where to find me.”

Klaus nods in agreement, but he’s sure that this was the last night he will be spending at Greg/George’s, and this time he’s determined.

Of course, that determination fades fairly quickly after a long day of scrounging up enough money for his next hit. Seeing the weather forecast on a television in a shop window also doesn’t help. It’s still cold as death at night, and it’s supposed to stay below freezing all week. He halfheartedly goes through his mental list again, but he knows he’s already decided. He’s got a good thing here with Greg/George, a very good thing, and he might as well milk it until it’s dry. ( _That’s kind of a gross metaphor,_ Klaus thinks to himself. He makes a mental note not to ever use it again.)

So at 7:03 in the evening, he’s knocking on Greg/George’s door once again, and the worst part is that Greg/George still looks happy to see him. Klaus wonders when that look will shift, and if it will happen suddenly and he’ll be able to pinpoint the precise moment, or if it will happen so gradually that he doesn’t notice until one day it’s just gone. (It’s a question of when, and how, not if.)

“I was afraid if I invited you over again you’d think I was being clingy,” Greg/George is saying happily as he lets Klaus in. They eat leftover _osso buco_ (still almost as good as freshly made) and make out on the couch while late-night television plays in the background.

It’s nice. A bit boring, but nice.

Klaus ends up staying at Greg/George’s the next night too, and the next. The rest of the week, in fact. (They have sex three times. Well, four, but two were on the same night.) And Greg/George is showing no signs of getting tired of him or wanting him to leave.

It’s almost like a holiday. Just for a while, he gets to escape the regular slog of existence, and have somewhere he knows he can go at the end of the day. A warm bath. A bed to sleep in. And someone to share it with.

Klaus can’t imagine this going on forever. He knows better than that. But the painful thing is that he can _almost_ imagine it. Maybe in another dimension, another version of him could date Greg/George for real. (Klaus imagines that this other version of him actually likes boring. This other version of him probably is just as boring as this other Greg/George, and they live a long, content, boring life together. It’s very domestic and cute, if you like that kind of thing.)

But in this dimension, this version of Klaus knows he could never have that. Even if he did want it, which he doesn’t.

**Day Eight**

“What are you doing?” a voice asks out of nowhere, and Klaus nearly jumps out of his skin before turning to see his brother’s ghost.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says, hand on his own chest to calm his racing heart. “Christ on a cracker, you scared the shit out of me. Give me a warning next time before you sneak up on me.”

Ben just watches him, and his eyes latch onto the wallet in Klaus’ hand. “You’re stealing from him, aren’t you?”

“What gives you that idea?” Klaus asks sarcastically as he continues rifling through the wallet. He pulls out a few twenties, wads them up and stuffs them down the front of his pants.

“I can’t believe you’ve sunk this low,” Ben says, shaking his head.

“Really?” Klaus answers as he wanders around the room, looking for anything small he might be able to fence for a decent amount of cash. “I must’ve stolen thousands from dad over the years, but sixty bucks from some stranger is the thing that damns my immortal soul? Besides,” he continues, flashing Ben a sardonic smile, “he just left his wallet out in the open, he was practically begging me to take money out of it.”

“This isn’t like stealing from dad,” Ben says, still giving Klaus that disappointed face. Ha. That’s Ben’s fault for expecting anything better from him. “Dad was so rich he never would have noticed that stuff missing. Plus he was an asshole who did terrible things to us, and made us do terrible things. If anyone deserves to get stolen from, it’s him. But this is just some regular guy. Who’s fed and housed you for over a week, by the way. It’s wrong to steal from him.”

“Thanks for that lesson in moral relativity, Jiminy Cricket,” Klaus fires back. “But I’m an indiscriminate thief. I’ll steal from anyone. Anyway, look at his place.” He gestures vaguely at Greg/George’s comfortably appointed home. “I hardly think he’s strapped for cash.”

“After everything he’s done for you, this is how you’re going to repay him.” Ben’s disappointed face is starting to itch at Klaus’ conscience. Damnit, he thought he’d gotten rid of that years ago. He wishes Ben would give it a rest.

“Dad fed and housed me a lot longer than this guy. Does that make him a good person too?”

“You always have an excuse, don’t you?” Ben says, his eyes piercing through Klaus and making him feel strangely small and weak. Like they’re thirteen again, and Ben is berating him for stealing from dad’s liquor cabinet. “Always some snappy comeback, always some way to twist things around so you’re not in the wrong.”

“That’s my brand,” Klaus answers cheerfully. He wonders if Ben knows him well enough to see through him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some drugs to buy.”

Ben follows him all the way to the pawn shop, and then to his dealer. He’s mostly quiet, but he makes up for it by shooting a series of impressive glares at Klaus, making his disapproval obvious. Ben was good a lot of things when he was alive, but subtlety was not one of them, and that hasn’t changed in death.

It’s only when Klaus has the drugs in hand that Ben speaks up again.

“I wonder what would happen if you actually gave this guy a chance,” Ben muses. “He seems really nice.”

“That’s the problem,” Klaus answers. “He’s so…” he waves his hands, trying to come with the words to adequately describe the perfect mediocrity that is Greg/George. “Nice. He’s just nice. He’s not good or bad, he’s just… nice.”

“He could be really good for you,” Ben says. Man, he’s really on one tonight. Like a dog with a bone.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to ignore the fact that I almost inadvertently quoted Stephen Sondheim,” Klaus says, making an ultimately futile attempt to distract Ben. Unfortunately, Ben is blessed (or cursed, depending on how you look at it) with laser focus and now Klaus has the soundtrack of _Into the Woods_ stuck in his head. Every song, all at once. (He doesn’t mind. Chris Pine can run through his head in those tight leather pants any day. With that hair, and just the right amount of scruff? Jesus. What was he talking about again?)

“Why do you sabotage every good relationship you have?” Ben demands.

“Ha! That’s a good one, you should do stand up,” Klaus scoffs. “What good relationships have I ever had? I wouldn’t even know where to begin. We never learned how to have actual healthy relationships, you know that.”

“There have been plenty of people willing to give you a chance,” Ben continues doggedly. “But every time someone gives you some slack, you hang yourself with it.”

“Well, yeah, it’s called ‘having a good time’. You should try it sometime.”

“Just for once, don’t you want to see what would happen if you actually gave a shit about someone other than yourself?”

Klaus exhales. Normally he would keep deflecting, but Ben is relentless tonight, and Klaus is just so… tired. He’s fucking exhausted. He’s been exhausted since he was eight years old, maybe longer.

“I already know what would happen,” he says in a low voice. “It would be fine for a while, it might even be really good, and then I would fuck it up like I always do. And poor George would be devastated. It’s just easier, and kinder in the long run, if I don’t even try.”

Ben frowns. “Is his name George? I thought it was Gavin.”

“No, Gavin was the one from two weeks ago. It’s definitely either George or Greg.”

Ben shakes his head and refocuses. “Anyway, what makes you so sure you would fuck it up? You don’t know until you try.”

Klaus has had about as much of this as he can stand. It’s time for Ben to go bye-bye. “You see, Ben,” he says slowly, while digging in his pocket for his pills, ignoring Ben’s protests, “If you don’t try, then you can never be disappointed.” He pops a handful and then shows Ben his left palm, and Ben glares at the words written there before slowly fading into nothing.

As soon as Ben is gone, Klaus starts to miss him, which is ridiculous, because he’s annoying as fuck. Always trying to guilt Klaus into being a better version of himself, even though Klaus knows perfectly well that no better version exists. This is as good as it gets.

That’s the problem when your dead brother’s ghost is your only friend, Klaus thinks. He’s insufferable, but without him, you’re reminded how terribly alone you are.

**Day Fifteen**

By the end of the second week, Klaus has stolen close to a thousand dollars from Greg/George, in both bills and pawned items. Greg/George has yet to notice. If it hadn’t been long since confirmed, Klaus would know he’s a bad person because of how little remorse he feels. In fact, he kind of thinks it’s Greg/George’s fault for not noticing. Anyone that dense deserves to get stolen from.

Klaus does feel sorry for him, but not for the stealing. He feels bad for offering a farce of a relationship. He knows he could never give Greg/George what he wants. Any capacity for love or affection he’d had, it was thoroughly beaten out of him by age eight; old Reggie had made sure of that.

If Klaus is being honest with himself, he knows there’s nothing really wrong with Greg/George. Part of him wishes he was the kind of person who could settle down with someone like Greg/George. He could give rehab another go; maybe this time around it would stick.

It’s fun, for a while at least, to imagine this alternate reality. But Klaus knows that if he spends too long in fantasy-land he starts to experience something that feels a lot like regret.

**Day Twenty**

By the third week, Klaus knows he’s stretching this tentative situation to the breaking point. There’s only so much longer he can get away with this before even Greg/George notices something.

Maybe that’s why he gets a bit lax about talking to Ben where Greg/George can hear. This pathetic excuse for a relationship (he hates himself for even using the word to describe this situation) has a very definitive expiration date; he doesn’t know exactly when it is, but he knows it’s coming up soon. So what’s the point?

It’s not exactly intentional, letting Greg/George hear him talking to Ben. And it’s at least half Ben’s fault; he just keeps talking to Klaus regardless of who’s around. But still, if he could have chosen a time and place for this to happen, it probably wouldn’t have been here and now. Then again, it probably wouldn’t have mattered.

“Aren’t you tired of relying on drugs to feel better?” Ben is saying. “You spend all your time chasing a high when there’s so many other things you could be doing.”

“Just for once, could you maybe spare me the lecture?” Klaus complains. “Aren’t _you_ tired of nagging me yet? It’s never gonna happen, ok?”

Ben opens his mouth to answer when Klaus hears footsteps behind him. He turns to see Greg/George entering the living room.

“Who were you talking to?” Greg/George asks uncertainly.

“My dead brother’s ghost,” Klaus deadpans.

He frowns. “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Klaus counters.

Still frowning, Greg/George looks away. He looks so uncomfortable, it’s starting to make Klaus uncomfortable, which is annoying.

“Klaus, I have to ask you something, and please don’t get offended, but…” He takes a deep breath. Now Klaus is intrigued. Don’t get offended? Please. The suspense is killing him. “Did you take a crystal bowl out of my cabinet?”

Oh, that. Of course he did. It was crystal, those things are worth hundreds. “Why would you even ask that?” Klaus demands in fake outrage. “I can’t believe you think I would do something like that!”

“Maybe because you definitely did it?” Ben suggests sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Klaus hisses. Greg/George gets this hurt look on his face, and Klaus sighs. “Not you,” Klaus tells him. “I was talking to my dead brother again. It’s a whole thing.”

“Are you… okay?” Greg/George asks. “If you need help, if it’s a question of money, I can…” He looks so confused, Klaus would feel sorry for him, if he didn’t also look so irritatingly concerned. Klaus doesn’t need anyone being concerned for him. No one has ever looked out for him before, and he doesn’t need anyone doing it now that he’s gotten used to looking out for himself.

Klaus drops the act. “Seriously?” he says. “You found out I’ve been stealing from you and you want to offer me _more_ money? What the hell is wrong with you?” No one could possibly be that nice. It had to be a ruse. Maybe he was planning to sell Klaus’ kidneys on the black market. Joke’s on him then, because Klaus’ kidneys would probably be shot in a few more years anyway.

Greg/George’s face grows clouded. “So you _did_ take it?” he accuses. “That was my grandmother’s bowl! She died last year and it was one of the only things I have left of her.”

Klaus feels a pang of guilt, but he pushes it down. It’s too late now, he couldn’t get that bowl back even if he wanted to. The money is already spent and the chemicals are already coursing through his system.

“You could tell him which pawn shop you took it to,” Ben says, as if he can read Klaus’ mind.

Klaus screws his eyes up and puts his hands over his ears. “Shut up, shut up,” he mutters.

“No, I won’t shut up!” Greg/George shouts. He’s getting angry now, which is at least better than concerned.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Klaus shouts back.

Greg/George looks taken aback, but he apparently decides to continue with the guilt trip. “I knew you were stealing money, and I’m pretty sure you took my watch too, but this is - ”

“Are you shitting me?” Klaus interrupts him. “You knew the whole time? Why did you let me stay here if you knew?”

“Because I could tell you were in some kind of trouble, and I was hoping you’d eventually ask for help!” He throws his hands up in defeat. “What was I supposed to do, let you sleep on the street?”

“Yes,” Klaus answers, laughing hysterically. “That’s what everyone else does! That’s what a _normal_ person would do!”

“I told you he was a nice guy,” Ben says reproachfully.

“Nobody asked you,” Klaus shoots back, confusing poor Greg/George even further.

“Klaus, are you… high?”

Klaus’ hysterical laughter makes a reappearance. “Yes! I’ve been varying levels of high since we met! But that’s not… I actually am talking to my dead brother’s ghost. I swear I’m not lying. I was lying before about the bowl, but I’m not now.”

“Klaus…” Greg/George says weakly. Klaus can tell that he’s nearing the limit of bullshit that he can take.

Maybe it’s not too late to fix this. If he just apologizes, tells Greg/George which pawn shop he took the bowl to like Ben suggested, he can probably squeeze at least another week out of this living situation. Or at least a few days, anyway. But for a really sincere-sounding apology, he should probably use Greg/George’s name. If only he knew what it was.

Klaus decides to hazard a guess. He has a 50/50 chance of getting it right. “Listen, Greg, I’m really sorry,” he starts, but he sees Greg/George’s face scrunch in confusion and his heart sinks.

“Who the fuck is Greg?” he asks. “Is that…” Klaus watches as realization strikes. “Oh,” he says. A hand covers his eyes. “Oh my god. You don’t even know my _name?_ ”

Fuck. Shit. He guessed wrong. Ok, he will admit this is pretty bad, but he can still salvage it. “Shit, I’m sorry, George, I knew it started with a G, I just couldn’t - ”

“My name is Anthony!”

Oh. Whoops. How was he so far off?

It’s really not funny. It’s really not. Except that it kind of is.

Klaus can’t help himself. He tries to hold it in, but something halfway between a snort and a snicker escapes him, and before he knows it he’s laughing in earnest. This whole situation is just so. _Fucked._

“I can’t do this,” Anthony says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m done.”

Ah. There it is. He stops laughing.

Anthony drops his hand. “I need you to leave, Klaus. And please never come back.”

“Ok. Sure,” Klaus says. His voice is deliberately cheerful. It’s fine. He doesn’t care. He was expecting this. “Bye, then. Have a nice life.” He waves at Anthony before turning around and striding purposefully out the door.

Stubbornness gets him as far as two blocks, and then he collapses against the brick wall of a dirty alleyway, limbs shaking. This is just coming down from the high, he tells himself. This is in no way related to the hollow, defeated sound of _‘I can’t deal with this anymore’_ echoing through his mind on a loop.

He doesn’t care. He knew this was going to happen. He was expecting it.

“Are you okay?” a kind voice asks. Klaus looks up and disappointment slices through his bones when he sees it’s Ben.

“Go _away,_ ” the plea tears out of his throat like a sob. “Leave me alone. I just want to be alone!”

“Okay,” Ben says uncertainly, but for once he does what Klaus asks, and the next time Klaus looks up, Ben is nowhere to be seen.

But Klaus knows the others will be close behind him, and they won’t be so considerate.

He allows himself a full minute leaning against the brick wall, feeling the porous texture under his fingertips and focusing on that instead of the maelstrom inside his head. Then he stands up again.

Holiday’s over. Time to go back to work.

**Epilogue**

(He spends that night in the emergency room.)


End file.
